


what i have faith in

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Siblings, Teaching, happy bday roos!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: Hamid has a unique relationship with his family.
Relationships: Aziza al-Tahan & Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan, Hamid & his siblings, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Saira al-Tahan, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Saleh al-Tahan Jr.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 42





	what i have faith in

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BDAY ROOS I DONT ACTUALLY KNOW WHEN IT IS BUT PLS TAKE THIS GIFT OF THE TAHANS ily
> 
> sometimes you just need to cry over a family

There’s a storm outside. Rain is a rare sight in Cairo, much less an actual, full-blown thunderstorm like this. The wind is screaming as it blows through the trees and garden outside of Hamid’s window, and thunder booms, lightning crackling through the air as it strikes. 

Hamid’s room is lit by intermittent flashes of light, illuminating long shadows that stretch across the floor, crawling closer and closer to his bed. He tries to get away from them, scrambling backward until his back is pressed to the headboard of his bed, but the shadows keep crawling along the floor. 

“Mama!” Hamid screams, curling up in his bed, wrapping the covers around him as he shakes. His heart is racing, beating against his ribcage, and the tears are starting to slip down his face. He can hear the echo of his baba’s voice in his head, telling him that little boys don’t cry, but he’s so scared that he can’t stop. 

There’s another crack of thunder and Hamid whimpers and yells for his mama again, begging and praying that she or one of the servants will hear him and come to the rescue. His father is out of town on a business trip, Saleh and Aziza are away at school, and Saira’s room is in a completely different wing of the house. He’s alone in his room, trapped in the dark, and he’s  _ terrified _ . 

He squeezes his eyes shut again as he throws the covers over his head and wraps his arms around his knees, short, manicured nails digging into the skin of his legs. His breaths are coming quicker now, and he can feel an unfamiliar panic creeping at the corners of his mind, sending his thoughts into a tailspin. 

Hamid doesn’t know how long it’s been when he notices a soft glow through his eyelids, and he cracks one eye open to see two small balls of light dancing through the space in front of him. They’re not bright, not at all, but they make Hamid feel a spot of comfort. 

At least it’s not dark anymore. 

He reaches out for one of them and cups it gently in his palm; it feels like a little ball of static, and the hair on his arms starts to stand up the longer he holds onto it. The light peeks out from between his fingers as he clenches his fist around it. He lets it go and it floats back to the other one. Together, they spin around his head and Hamid laughs through the fear, trying to catch them as they dance too fast for his hands to grab. 

“Hamid?” he hears his mama call, voice a mix of panicked and tired, and the lights go out as the covers are pulled away from his head.

It’s dark in the room again, but he can just make out his mother’s face, close to his. The tear tracks are just starting to dry on his face when there’s another flash of lightning followed by a loud boom. He screams again, clapping his hands over his ears and closing his eyes. 

“Oh, come here, habibi, come here,” Hawaa says, and Hamid holds his arms up as she picks him up. He buries his head into her shoulder, arms locked tightly around her neck, and Hawaa starts walking out of his room, holding onto him as she rubs his back. “Did the storm scare you?” 

Hamid doesn’t say anything, refusing to open his eyes again. Maybe - maybe if he concentrates, the lights will come again. He tries to think about them, tries to remember the feeling of them, but there’s no more soft glow, even when he cracks one of his eyes open. 

Hawaa carries him back to her room and sits down on the edge of the bed with him in her lap. She gently pulls his arms away from her neck and sets him down across from her on the bed. “Here we go,” she says, and pulls the covers closed around their bed. She reaches out between the curtains and grabs something from the table - an electronic light. It flicks on, casting a flickering dull light around the curtains and chasing away the darkness. “The storm can’t get us here.”

There’s another crash of thunder and Hamid jumps, scrambling over to his mother as he grabs onto her arm. “It’s loud, mama,” he whimpers, and Hawaa wraps her arm around his shoulders as Hamid curls up next to her. 

“It will pass soon, habibi, we just have to let the gods have their fun,” she says. “You know, you can see how far away it is if you count how long it takes to hear the thunder after seeing lighting. If it takes a while, that means the sound is far away, and so is the storm.”

“Really, mama?” Hamid says, tilting his head. “How do we know?” 

“Sound… travels to us. The longer it takes to travel to us, the farther away it is. You know how grandmother took us to see the fireworks last year? Just pretend these are fireworks, and let’s see how far away they are.”

Hamid nods, and she holds her fingers up. He does the same, still shaking, but Hawaa takes his other hand in hers, and Hamid squeezes his eyes shut. He still sees the flash of light through his eyelids, and focuses on the sound of his mother counting slowly. “One… two… three…. f-“ 

Thunder cracks like a whip through the room and Hamid jumps, eyes opening as he looks around, terrified. Hawaa just wraps her arms around his shoulders, tucking him closer into her side, and holds up four fingers. “It’s four kilometres away, Hamid. That’s far! We’re safe here, okay?” 

Hamid looks up at her, heart still racing. “Are we?”

“We are,” she promises, and taps his nose. “I’ll always protect you, you know.”

Hamid doesn’t know if he completely believes her, but the thunder hasn’t come any closer, 

“Here. I have an idea. Can you sing with me?” his mother asks, poking Hamid in the side. Hamid scrunches up his nose but sits up a bit more, nodding. Hawaa begins to hum, and Hamid recognizes it as the lullaby that she used to sing to him before he would go to sleep, before the servants took over the bedtime duties. He still remembers it, and his mother’s voice is as lovely as it ever was. Hamid joins in as she hums, voice still a little shaky; they’re both quiet in the small fort created by the curtains on all sides of the bed, but Hamid feels less scared as the song goes on. It helps drown out the sound of the rain, and Hawaa gently eases Hamid down on the bed as his voice falters, turning into a yawn. 

She continues humming even as Hamid stops, but he’s content to just listen to her sing. Aziza got her voice from their mother, clearly, and Hawaa’s voice is soft and sweet enough to lull him into relaxation as his head hits the pillow. 

It doesn’t take long for the thunderstorm to die down - storms don’t last long in Cairo. Hamid can still hear the rain against the roof and walls, but the lightning flashes are becoming more and more infrequent, thunder nothing more than a distant angry rumble stretching across the sands. 

“Be brave, my little dragon,” Hawaa whispers, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “The lightning can’t touch you here.” 

Hamid nods, sleepy. Hawaa strokes his hair slowly, running her fingers through it, and Hamid settles down in the bed, small hands clutching tightly onto the edge of the pillow as he lets his eyes slip closed. 

Hamid falls asleep eventually, even with the rain and wind still blowing outside. His mother continues to sing softly as he curls into her side, tears drying on his cheeks, and he slides into a dreamless sleep.

—

“You’re going to do great, Hamid,” Saleh encourages, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s dead easy, look.” He turns Hamid toward the field, pointing ahead of them. A few of Saleh’s friends are already out there running along the track, laughing and high-giving each other. The hurdles don’t seem to give them a problem, but Hamid feels a little more skeptical. All of Saleh’s friends are taller than he is, and Hamid isn’t as confident as Saleh seems to be.

Saleh’s back home for the summer, and Hamid’s been bouncing off the walls ever since he got back. The servants are busy tending to the twins, who just turned two, and don’t have time to  _ also _ handle Saira and Hamid running around and getting in trouble. So, their father shoved Hamid toward Saleh and Saira toward Aziza and told the both of them to get them out of the house for the day so he can finish his work without screams and bangs interrupting him. Saleh and Aziza always switch up which one of them they’re taking care of, and it’s Saleh’s turn to spend time with Hamid. 

Hamid doesn’t mind, even though secretly Aziza is his favorite sibling. Saleh is cool - he’s in his final year of university, and he’s a track star, and Hawaa has taken Hamid to a few of Saleh’s meets recently and Hamid thought his brother was incredible. 

“Saleh, can we head to the track?” Hamid begs. It’s a gorgeous day outside, and his older brother loves the chance to show off. The local primary school has a track that’s open to the public, and Hamid spends a lot of time there during lunch and after school, just laying in the sun and soaking up the warmth. 

Saleh’s a bit distracted, looking around them and shielding his eyes from the glare, but he nods. “Sure, Hamid. My mates were heading that way, anyway,” he says, and then head down a small side road toward the school. It’s easier than walking along the main strip, and with less merchants hawking their wares at them. 

It’s a nice walk; Hamid keeps talking about his school - about the other kids, his teachers, classes, coursework - and their parents, filling Saleh in on all the drama he’s missed while he’s been away. There’s not as much as Hamid wants there to be, of course, but he’s always been a good storyteller, and Saleh seems happy enough to listen while they walk. Hamid chatters enough for both of them as it is. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to the school, and Saleh waves to the few mates of his stood over by the fence.

Saleh and them show off for a while, laughing as they practice a number of different events. Hamid cheers from the side, clapping loudly and handing them cups of water when they take a break. He recognises some of them, the ones who have been friends with Saleh for a long time, but some of them are new faces who Hamid doesn’t know. Still, he beams up at them when they get water, and they reach down and ruffle his hair in return, laughing. 

Saleh comes back over eventually and crouches down in front of Hamid, helmet in hand. “Want to join?” he asks, and Hamid gasps before nodding emphatically. Saleh hands him the helmet and Hamid takes it eagerly, following Saleh over to the track. He pulls off his small overcoat and lays it down gently on the grass nearby and then sits cross legged, looking up at Saleh. 

“You’re gonna give the hurdles a go,” Saleh says, gesturing to the long line of barriers on the track. Hamid peers around him and swallows heavily, enthusiasm dimming a bit.

“But - Saleh, the hurdles are  _ huge,  _ how am I supposed to step over them?” Hamid asks, clutching the helmet between his hands. 

“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll smash it. Here, follow me,” Saleh says, pulling Hamid up and standing in front of him. “You’re going to - okay, follow what I do, yeah -“ he continues to explain as he walks Hamid through the motions. Hamid struggles through all of it, but the two of them keep repeating it until Hamid’s got the motion down perfectly. Saleh encourages him the whole way, before giving a final whoop and clapping Hamid on the shoulder. “You’ve got it!”

Hamid doesn’t  _ feel  _ like he’s got it, but if his brother says so… well, he’ll believe him. Saleh leads him by the shoulders over to the starting line and a few of the other boys stop by as well, cheering Hamid on. It’s nice, but doesn’t help the nerves. 

Saleh spins Hamid around to face the hurdles, hands squeezing his shoulders. “Now. Just do what I taught you, and you’ll be fine. Alright?”

Hamid nods, still a little worried, but he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Saleh cuffs him once on the back of his head, gently, and smiles in encouragement as Hamid watches him walk away.

Hamid nods to himself and turns back toward the hurdles. They seem even bigger up close, nearly his entire height, and a small sliver of doubt runs through his mind. The boys over by the bench cheer, and Hamid gives them a weak smile. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and then runs, speeding up quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut as he nears the first hurdle, jumping and trying to clear it; he collides with it instead, knee banging against the solid metal, and he lets out a panicked cry as a bolt of pain shoots right up his leg. The hurdle doesn’t even move, but Hamid collapses to the ground like a sack of potatoes, screaming bloody murder for all to hear. 

“Hamid!” Saleh shouts, although Hamid can barely hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. His leg itself isn’t bleeding, but it hurts like hell and Hamid can barely think through the pain. He starts to sob as he turns over and pulls his knee close to his chest, curling up on himself.

“Shite, shite, shite,” Saleh says, crouching down next to him, hands fluttering around. “Don’t tell Mama and Baba I said that. Thank the gods you were wearing a helmet. Are you alright?” 

Hamid shakes his head, pain still shooting through his body. “H - hurts,” he manages to whimper, hands tightening on his calf where he holds his leg. 

“Okay, we’re going to go get you fixed up. Think you can walk?” Saleh asks, and reaches out to rest his hand on Hamid’s knee. It hurts the second he touches it, and Hamid lets out another sob. “Okay, no walking, no touching. You’re going to be fine, Hamid, promise.”

Hamid believes him, but his knee is still hurting so bad, so he can barely respond. 

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Saleh mutters to someone, Hamid assumes his friends, and a few sets of footsteps lead away from where he’s lying. “Relax for me, alright?” Hamid does his best. Saleh picks Hamid up carefully; as much as he’s trying not to jostle his knee, he still does, and Hamid bites down on his lip to keep from crying out again. 

“Oi, Hamid. You don’t need to put on a brave face for me,” Saleh says, and Hamid lets out a shaky breath, tears still streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry, mate, we’re gonna get you to the temple and then they’ll make your leg feel all better, yeah?” 

Hamid nods, and then Saleh sets off, walking carefully with Hamid in his arms. 

“Hope you’re okay, Hamid!” one of Saleh’s friends calls after them, and Hamid manages a weak wave before resting his head against his brother’s chest, biting his lip to keep from screaming as nearly each step jostles his knee despite Saleh’s best efforts.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long. One trip to the temple of Aphrodite later and Hamid is good as new. His knee doesn’t hurt anymore, and the healer who saw to him had gifted him two lollies for his troubles. Hamid’s sucking on one of them happily now as Saleh gives him a piggyback ride back through the city.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Saleh says, hoisting Hamid a bit higher up on his back. “I didn’t - shoulda been more careful. S’on me.”

Hamid shakes his head. “It’s okay. My knee doesn’t even hurt anymore! The pretty healer lady fixed it right up.” Saleh doesn’t say anything, so Hamid carefully roots around in the pockets of his coat. It takes him a moment to find the right pocket, but eventually he pulls out the second lolly and taps on Saleh’s shoulder, squirming as he tries to get down. 

Saleh sets him down immediately and Hamid does a little twirl, hopping around. “See? All better.” He holds out the lolly to Saleh, who takes with a confused and relieved chuckle. 

“You’re a good kid, Hamid,” Saleh says, smiling. “Thanks. Glad you’re alright.” He takes Hamid’s hand as they both walk, enjoying their sweets.

“Do you think mama will have dinner ready by the time we get back?” Hamid wonders as they pass by the spice markets. Everything smells amazing, and his stomach gives a rumble as he takes a good sniff. Saleh shrugs as his stomach rumbles too, and Hamid laughs. 

“Hope so. I’m starved,” Saleh says, and pokes Hamid in the side. “Sounds like you are too.” 

Hamid bats Saleh’s hand away. “I’m  _ so hungry, _ ” he whines, and tugs on Saleh’s hand. “Can we get a little snack? Just something small, I won’t tell mama and baba. Pleeeeeeeeease?” he says, drawing it out as Saleh sighs. 

“No, Hamid. I don’t even have money on me, see?” he says, turning his pockets inside out. Hamid pouts a bit, but returns to skipping alongside his brother as they head back to the house. 

“Saleh,” Hamid asks as they get closer to the house. They both nod at the two guards at the gate, who let them in with a polite nod of their head. “Can I come to your next meet? I want to cheer you on. And if you do the hurdles I want to see you. Maybe I can do them better next time if I learn.”

“Yeah, mate,” Saleh says after a moment. He pulls Hamid into a tight side hug, gripping his shoulder tightly. “I’d like that a lot.”

Hamid gives him a quick hug back and then slides away, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Last one in’s a smelly crocodile!” he shouts, and bee-lines for the house, Saleh sputtering and nearly swearing behind them as Hamid laughs, feet pounding the dusty ground below.

Saleh beats him by a mile. Shouldn’t have challenged a track runner, Hamid supposes, but he doesn’t mind being a smelly crocodile all that much when Saleh pats him on the head and lets him lead the way into the dining room.

—

Hamid’s sitting alone in his flat in London, staring ahead unseeingly at the wall. He can still hear the explosion in his head, still hear the bells ringing as the clerics and security guards and other professors came running to see what had happened, can still see the soot-blackened face of the students in shock being led out of the classroom. It just keeps running through his head, an unending loop, and he buries his head against his knees, arms wrapped around his knees. 

The door to his flat opens and Hamid starts, straightening out and rubbing at his eyes to hide the evidence of his tears. He hopes it’s not his father; Baba has barely even looked at Hamid since the school summoned him here, and each time they do make eye contact, Hamid feels… small. The disappointment and shame in his father’s eyes is almost the worst part of this. Almost. 

Hamid killed someone. He doesn’t even know  _ how  _ his father  _ can  _ look at him right now, knowing that.

“Hamid?” he hears, not a voice he expected, and then Aziza appears in the doorway of his bedroom, looking excited. “There you are! I was -“ Her voice dies off as she sees Hamid, and a look of concern passes over her face.

“Hamid, what’s wrong?” Aziza says, crouching in front of him. He still can barely speak, biting his lip as his hands clench and unclench into fists on his thighs. Aziza reaches out and turns them palm up, lacing their fingers together. “Hey. Breathe.” 

Hamid does, a long, shuddering breath that feels like it takes forever, but the panic’s already set in and he feels like he  _ can’t,  _ that the world is collapsing and crumbling around him. He tries to take another breath but it feels like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, and Aziza squeezes his hands. “Hey, it’s alright, what happened?”

Hamid gasps and the words come out in a flood of confusion. “They - I - I hurt someone, they kicked me out, I - it wasn’t my  _ fault, _ he switched the formula, but - Aziza, we -“ Hamid cuts himself off with a sob, tugging his hand out of Aziza’s grip to press against his mouth. Aziza doesn’t resist, but she does straighten up and sit next to Hamid on the bed, pulling him into a tight hug. Her hand traces circles on his back as she rubs it, a soothing motion that helps Hamid start to come back to himself. 

“It’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s okay, and I love you. Okay?” Aziza says, and Hamid nods against her collarbone. He’s still breathing too fast, but the circles Aziza is rubbing on his back are slow and steady, and he starts timing his breathing with them, feeling some of the panic leave his body. 

Eventually, he collapses forward, exhausted, and Aziza maneuvers them so that they’re sitting side by side against the headboard, Hamid’s head resting on her shoulder as she gently cards her fingers through his hair. Neither of them speak; Aziza’s normally talkative and it’s hard to get a word in edgewise, but she’s always known when Hamid just needs to sit in silence for a while. The feeling of her fingers in his hair help Hamid calm down, come back to himself a bit more until he thinks he can at the very least sit up on his own. Still, he doesn't move from Aziza’s side, wrapping her hand in his own when he feels like he can move. 

She squeezes back, tightly, and then her hand trails down from his head to rest on his shoulder.

“I was kicked out,” Hamid eventually says, feeling so,  _ so  _ tired. Aziza doesn’t say anything in response, just wraps her arm a little tighter around him. The shame courses through his blood again, a sharp bite as he thinks about the expression on his father’s face. 

“Baba handled it. He paid off the university, paid off everyone involved. The deal was that it disappears if I leave. So… I left. He - he didn’t want this to be a stain on the family name,” Hamid says, giving a shaky smile. Aziza’s hand tightens on his upper arm for a moment, and then relaxes.

“You are  _ never _ going to be a stain,” she says, fierce, and Hamid swallows heavily. “Never.”

Hamid starts to sob at that again, but it’s - it’s quieter than before. Less of the gasping breaths. Still, the tears are coursing down his face as he leans into Aziza.

“Never.” she whispers again, and Hamid can’t speak around the lump in his throat. 

They sit like that for a while as Hamid lets himself cry, an entire week’s worth of emotions streaming from him as Aziza continues to comfort him, a pillar of strength that Hamid’s always been able to believe in. 

It takes a while, but Aziza doesn’t move for any of it. Just lets Hamid cry until he’s exhausted, until he feels more like an actual, real person than he has in what may be days. He quiets, eventually, although the tears don’t stop. Aziza rubs at his arm as Hamid begins to calm, and then they’re both sitting there in the silence of the room. 

“I’m staying,” Aziza decides, and Hamid can’t find it in him to protest. “I’ve got some time in between shows, and my hotel room simply isn’t anywhere  _ near _ as fancy as this. Is your guest room all made up?” 

Hamid has to think for a moment, because the last time it was used was probably when Gideon was here, and that thought alone sends him down into another guilt and shame spiral as Aziza cups his face in her hands.

“Hey. Breathe with me,” she says, and Hamid does, waiting it out until most of the panic has finally drained from his veins. “I’ll get new sheets from the cupboard just in case. And, I’m going to make you a cup of tea with milk and honey that you’re going to drink before you fall asleep, yeah?” 

She’s gone before Hamid can react, and he can hear her puttering around in the kitchen and messing with the kettle as he lays his head back against the headboard. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Aziza, but he’s damned happy she’s there, even if all of this will just be a temporary fix for the problem. 

The guest bedroom door opens and closes as, Hamid assumes, the water in the kettle starts to heat. He looks up at the ceiling and waits, patiently, for Aziza to come back. He stops crying at some point, and wipes away the tear streaks under his eyes. 

Aziza doesn’t take long; he hears the kettle whistle, and moments later she comes back in through the door, cup in hand. 

“Here. It’s your favorite,” she says, and carefully hands him the mug. Hamid’s hands are shaking much less than before, but he’s still extra careful as he takes the mug. It’s his favorite - there are little stars on the side, a gift from his mother when he moved to London, and the tea smells amazing. 

Hamid nods in thanks and takes a sip, careful to blow on it before drinking. It tastes wonderful as well; Aziza’s always been the best at making tea. 

Aziza leaves again while he sips at it. He can hear her puttering about in the guest room as he drinks, and once he’s done, she comes back in. 

“Lay down,” Aziza instructs, and Hamid listens, setting the cup down on the table. He’s tired, has been for days, but he’s actually optimistic that tonight won’t end in nightmares this time. “Night, Hamid,” she says, leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. “Things will look brighter. You’ll see, yeah?” 

Hamid doesn’t know what to say, so he just lays there and nods. 

“... Thank you,” he says, quiet, and Aziza pauses, hand resting on the side of the door as she turns back to look at him. 

“Hamid. I’ll always help you, okay?” she says, half of her mouth curling up in a smile. “Even if you don’t ask. I’m here.”

Hamid nods, blinking blearily. He’s - gods, he’s so tired, it’s been such a long few weeks, and he feels like he’s spinning around in circles with no idea where to turn next. It’s more bearable, though, with Aziza there. Her personality has always filled up a room, and Hamid thinks that might be just what he needs right now, instead of the oppressive silence of his flat. 

“Mm - Aziza?” he calls, waiting for her to tilt her head, waiting for him to continue. “Love you. And…thanks,” Hamid mumbles, pulling the covers up to his chin. 

“I love you too,” Aziza says, a quiet promise, and shuts the door quietly. 

It takes a while for Hamid to actually be able to fall asleep, but when he does, his sleep is dreamless. 

—

Hamid shuts the door to the office quietly behind him. Azu, Grizzop, and Sasha have all promised to wait for him to speak to his sister; he appreciates it. Appreciates  _ them _ . 

Saira is standing behind the desk and staring at the multiple mountains of paperwork, eyes flashing between them as she considers the size of the different piles. She looks up as the door shuts, and stands a bit straighter.

“Hello,” Hamid greets, and moves closer to stand across from her. It reminds him of the very few times he spent in here with his father, although standing across from Saira is infinitely more relaxing. 

“When are you leaving?” she asks, and he sighs. 

“After I say goodbye to you,” he says, frowning. “I wish I could stay longer, really. But -“

“I understand,” Saira says, and comes around the desk to give him a brief hug. “I don’t know the full scope of what you’re doing, and I know you can’t tell me, but I hope whatever it is, you keep yourself safe, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best,” Hamid says, and Saira lets him go. She takes a small step back, leaning against the desk, and then sliding down it until she’s sitting on the floor. Hamid joins her, after a moment, back resting against the cool wood of the desk. His father’s office is always colder than the rest of the house, for some reason. Hamid never understood why, but it must be something magical. 

“Are  _ you _ going to be alright?” he asks, nervously twisting the edges of his cloak through his fingers. 

“Sure,” Saira says, and Hamid knows her enough to recognize the slightly bitter tone in her voice. “I have to be, considering I’m running the banks now.”

They’d all wanted to get out from under their father’s thumb, even Saleh, although he hadn’t been the best at doing so. Neither had Hamid, really. Aziza and Saira had always been the smart ones. And Aziza and Saira had done it, as well.

“I’m so sorry, Saira,” Hamid says, leaning into his older sister and resting his head on her shoulder. “We - you never deserved this. You wanted to get  _ out,  _ you don’t - you shouldn’t be  _ stuck  _ here. It’s not fair.” 

“No, it’s not,” Saira agrees, “but not much to be done about it now. Hopefully, mama will be feeling better soon and she can take over. It’s just…” she trails off. “So soon after the funeral, we didn’t - she wouldn’t be at her best, in this position.”

“Oh, of course,” Hamid says. His mother has barely even spoken to any of them since they arrived, and he knows she’ll need more time to get through this. He - he almost wishes he could stay, to help support the family, but he doesn’t think he can just leave this mission now, not when it feels like there’s an invisible clock running down the time they have to stop it.

“Or, Saleh and Baba won’t have too harsh a sentence and then Baba and Mama can go back to running the banks like they were before,” Saira says. “It’s - a lot of it is up in the air at the moment. Just… have to keep rolling with the punches.”

“Saira, you - you’re allowed to grieve too,” Hamid says, and there’s a lump in his throat and, yes, maybe his family didn’t do this type of talking often but maybe they  _ should  _ have. 

“I know, Hamid,” Saira says quietly. “I - I am. I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not that good at it. I didn’t stop crying for two days, and then you all were here and everything’s happened so  _ fast.  _ I wish it all could  _ stop  _ for a moment.”

Hamid looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, quiet, but Saira waves the apology away. 

“You didn’t cause Saleh to make his decisions. Not everything needs to be your fault, Hamid,” Saira says, but Hamid can’t help the slight guilt running through his blood. “And, I’m older than you, so even if you  _ were  _ sticking around Baba wouldn’t let anyone but me head the family anyway, so get that thought out of your head.”

Hamid doesn’t know how she knows he was thinking that, but at the same time… it’s Saira. She always knows.

“Well, at least you got his office,” he tries to joke, and Saira gives a short laugh. 

“His office and  _ all  _ his paperwork,” she says, gesturing to the piles stacked on the chairs as well as the desk. “Lucky.”

“It’s so different, being in here,” Hamid says, looking around the office as he tries to change the subject. The desk, the couch, the portraits on the wall, the bookshelves… they’re all the same as before, if looking a little more worn, but it’s just like it was when he was a child. “Baba would never let us in.”

“Unless he wanted to yell at us where no one else could hear,” Saira adds, frowning. “Magical enchantments and soundproof walls, oh my.”

Hamid snorts. “Do you remember when he yanked you and I in here after we got in a fight at school?”

Saira chuckles as well. “Haven’t had a tongue-lashing like that in  _ years.  _ Baba was  _ so angry _ .”

“They shouldn’t have been teasing you,” Hamid says. He doesn’t regret it, although he could have done without their father reprimanding them for hours. 

“They shouldn’t have been teasing  _ you,”  _ Saira counters. She ruffles Hamid hair and he squeaks, batting her hands away. 

They sit there in silence for a moment. They’ve always been good at that, the two of them. After Saleh left to compete and Aziza went off to university, Hamid and Saira grew closer than before. The twins had already been born, but they were so  _ young _ , and Hamid and Saira had needed some time away from constantly being their babysitters. They didn’t always need to talk - not like Aziza did - and they didn’t always need to be moving - like Saleh did. They understood each other, and Hamid’s glad to see that hasn’t changed. 

“I told Baba off,” Hamid says eventually, as casually as he can, although he’s sure Saira can hear the way his voice shakes. Saira knows some of the story already, but he hasn’t told her about everything that happened in the bank room

before his father allowed him to help. 

She snorts. “Good. It was about time.”

“He was - he was trying to pay off Saleh’s mistakes, like he always does for us, and I told him that doing that is never going to make any of us  _ learn  _ anything,” Hamid says. “He threw a chair.”

“By the gods, Hamid, are you alright?” Saira asks, looking worried. “A chair?”

“It wasn’t at me,” he reassures, but Saira still doesn’t look comforted. “And that - that’s not the point, honestly, I, er - I just - it felt so  _ good _ to tell him off and for him to. Actually listen?”

“Good. I’m glad he did,” Saira says, squeezing his hand. “He - I don’t think things would have changed if you’d tried to do it before. But I’m glad they did now.”

“Even though it landed both him and Saleh in jail?” Hamid asks. He still feels guilty for it, but he’s hoping that the police will be able to puzzle out the situation and not give either of them too harsh a sentence. “He just wanted to protect his family.”

Saira sighs. “I know. That will - well, as I’ve said, I think he’ll have a reduced sentence because of it, but… he can’t fix all our problems for us. I’m glad you seemed to  _ actually  _ get through to him on that.”

“Me too,” Hamid says, and he’s still a little shocked that it worked, but happy. 

They sit there for a little while longer. The sun is coming in through the window, and Hamid is comfortable and pleasantly warm, sitting right in the path of a sunbeam. He knows he has to go, soon, but he tries to stretch out his time with Saira as much as possible before his friends become impatient. 

Still, all things must come to an end. 

“I need to go,” Hamid finally says, as much as he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay here, wants to be with his family after years of being away, but he knows that his mission comes first. 

“I know,” Saira says, and stands up. She stretches a hand down and pulls Hamid up. 

“If you  _ ever  _ need anything, just let me know and I’ll come running back, okay?” Hamid says, and wraps Saira in a tight hug. She squeezes him back, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. “Honestly. Anything. Even just the twins being terrors.”

Saira laughs at that, and Hamid doesn’t think he imagines the way her hug gets a little bit tighter.

“I’m proud of you, Hamid,” she says, leaning back and taking his hands, squeezing them tightly. “You’ve grown up so much since we were little. Really.”

Hamid sniffles a bit at that, and can feel the pressure building up behind his eyes. “I just - I wanted to be able to show you all I wasn’t the same… same immature kid as before.”

“You’re definitely not,” Saira says. “You - I can't put my finger on it, but you seem… different. It’s a good different. More mature. I’m happy for you.”

Hamid nods. He - well, he isn’t going to tell her that most of it was borne of trauma, but he’s glad that she’s able to see how much he’s changed. He’s - he was an immature kid before leaving, he knows that, and then seeing his family so infrequently over the years… he’s happy that not much seems to have changed at least between Saira and him. Even with all the changes in their family, all the grief, they’re still as close as they ever were. 

One last hug and Hamid goes to leave as Saira retreats behind the desk. He opens the door and takes a deep breath. 

“Hamid?” Saira calls after him, and he turns in the doorway, giving her one last smile. “Promise you’ll come back.”

Hamid nods instantly, even though he knows it’s not necessarily a promise he can make. “I’ll do everything I can to come back. I promise, Saira.” 

Saira gives him a short nod and then smiles at him too, only for a moment, before ducking back behind the stacks of paperwork. Her quill scritches quickly against whatever document she’s working on, and Hamid watches her for half a second more before he steps out and shuts the door behind him. 

He will do anything. Anything to come home, anything to keep his family from losing someone else. He’ll protect them as best he can, even if he can’t be here. 

—

“Okay, boys, you’re doing great, but be a  _ little  _ more careful than that,” Hamid says apprehensively, wondering again if this might have been a mistake. 

Spark is a common enough spell, he’d thought. The twins were more mature now, had been through so  _ much _ , they’d be able to handle a little fire magic. Zolf and Azu hadn’t looked completely convinced when Hamid told them of the idea, but Cel had tirelessly supported him, and, well. It’s just - looking back, maybe Azu and Zolf had a point. 

“We’ve got it, Hamid!” Ismail reassures him, snapping his fingers again as a small burst of flame shoots out, fizzling before it can touch the curtains. Hamid watches, heart in his throat as Ishaq attempts the spell as well. The twins have certainly taken to it - Hamid has a working theory that the dragon blood running through their veins gives them a natural affinity to fire. It’s no surprise to him that the twins are having no trouble casting this particular spell. 

Hamid tried to tell them that they didn’t  _ need _ to snap to make the spell work, but both of them hadn’t listened, saying that Hamid snapped, so they wanted to too. It had left a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest - a feeling that was slowly bleeding away, to be replaced with nervousness as the boys continued, quite literally, playing with fire. 

“Let’s - let’s move on, er, another spell might be better for you two to learn. What do you two think? Ready for something new?” Hamid asks, and both of them turn to face him at once, eyes lighting up. 

“Teach us how to fly!” Ismail says, bouncing around him. Ishaq joins in, echoing his brother and bouncing as well. 

“Yeah, Hamid! We wanna know how to fly!” Ishaq says, excited. 

“Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!” they both chant, while Hamid debates the merits of casting sleep on them again. In the end, he decides against it - they’re both incorrigible when they want something, and sleeping will just give them  _ more  _ energy to badger him with. 

Actually - he has the perfect idea. He grabs both of the twins by the shoulders and stops them in place. They, for once, actually stop and look up at him, eyes wide. 

“Fly?” Ismail asks, hopefully, and Hamid shakes his head. 

“I’ve got something even  _ better _ ,” he says, and then snaps his fingers as he leaps away from the twins. It’s a feat of agility even Sasha would be proud of, he thinks fondly, but then he’s a bit too distracted by the near-gallon of water pouring over the twins head as they shriek. The water’s  _ cold _ \- Hamid knows from having it cast on him enough times, and he nearly falls over laughing as the twins stand there, soaking wet. 

Neither of them say anything for a while, and then they exchange a single look - never a good sign, Hamid thinks - and turn on him with twin smiles. 

“Oh no,” Hamid says as they advance toward him. “Don’t even  _ think  _ about it.” He casts Fly just to be safe, and only just misses the twins lunging at him, aiming to get him in a wet hug. 

“Damn,” Ishaq says, and Hamid flies down to flick him on the head.

“Language,” he reminds him, and Ishaq sticks his tongue out at him as Hamid flies up again. 

“We’re  _ soaked _ ,” Ismail whines, and Hamid shrugs. 

“I taught you Prestidigitation,” Hamid says, gesturing for them to go for it. “Let’s see what you can do.” 

“Oh, right!” Ismail says, and screws his face up as he concentrates, focusing hard. He claps his hands and about half of him seems to dry off. His hair is a bit frizzier than normal, tight curls looking like more of an untamed ‘fro than normal. “Hmm.” 

He claps again, and the rest of him dries off as well. Ishaq does the same - Hamid notices that he claps as well, and smiles fondly. Ishaq’s spell seems to go off better than Ismail’s, but once they’re both standing there dry again, Hamid gives them a round of applause. 

“Well done, boys,” Hamid says, and floats back down to the ground, letting the spell end. “And, Ismail, it’ll get easier the more you practice.” Hamid pulls out his handkerchief and waves it at the twins, and they instantly look immaculate. 

“What spell was that, Hamid?” Ismail asks.

“It’s called  _ drench,” _ Hamid says. “And, well, you saw the effects for yourself.”

“I wanna try it!” Ishaq says, bounding up to him. 

“Yeah, how’d you do it?” Ismail adds, tugging on Hamid’s arms. 

“Okay, okay,  _ patience _ , you’ll learn,” Hamid says, laughing. Apparently, spending time with both Ed and Einstein hasn’t calmed the twins down much. “Now. You need to pay  _ close  _ attention.”

He walks them through the spell slowly, making sure that they get the motions and parts of the incantation perfectly right. They do well - the twins might be a little over-hyper at times and not listen the best, but they settle down when it comes to learning magic. After he’s confident that both of them have a handle on the incantation, he lets them give it a go. 

Ishaq tries it first - he points, and a stream of water appears out of nowhere and dumps onto the floor. Hamid flicks it away with a wave of his hand and Ishaq turns around, bouncing up and down in excitement. “That’s so  _ cool!”  _ he says, “Give it a try, Is, it’s great!” 

Ismail steps up next, concentrating hard. He does the same as his brother, pointing ahead, and again, succeeds. A small stream of water shoots directly out of his finger, unlike Ishaq’s, which had just appeared in the air. “Wicked!” he says, staring at his finger.

Hamid gives them both a few claps. “Well done, you got that one really quickly.” 

“It’s fun!” they say at the same time, and then laugh at each other. Ishaq looks around, and Hamid knows him  _ too  _ well to not immediately be wary of that look in his eyes. 

“What are you thinking,” he asks, wary, and Ishaq just shrugs his shoulders, the very  _ picture  _ of innocence. Hamid doesn’t trust him for a second. 

“Nothing,” Ishaq says, but then he nudges Ismail, who gets the same look in his eyes. 

Hamid realizes what’s about to happen  _ very _ quickly. He gives Ishaq one warning glare. “Don’t you dare,” he threatens, starting to point at him.

Ishaq just smirks, yelling “Now!” as he and Ismail point at Hamid. 

Two different jets of water hit him, one from above (courtesy of Ishaq) and one directly in the face (courtesy of Ismail). Hamid can feel his hair flop into his face as he stands there, dripping. He doesn’t move for a second, a small puddle forming under him, as the twins laugh uproariously. They quiet quickly, though, when he looks up at them and gives them a  _ very _ stern glare. 

And then he snaps twice, quickly. 

Another veritable bucket of water dumps over the twins heads as they stand there, shocked, and then all three of them break out into laughter. The twins both rush at Hamid, and even though they’re smaller than him and he’s been through. Well. A  _ lot,  _ recently - they still collide with him and knock him to the ground. He doesn’t mind, though, and immediately starts mussing up their hair as they keep shooting him with water. 

Gods. The room is going to be an absolute  _ mess  _ to clean up later, Hamid  _ really  _ should have brought them outside. That’s a problem for future Hamid, though. Now-Hamid is spread-eagle on the ground with both of the twins laying on top of him, laughing. They’re all soaked, completely wet through to the bone, but he hasn’t laughed this hard in a while. 

“Will you teach us Fly, Hamid?” Ishaq asks, and at his side, Ismail nods furiously. 

Hamid considers them both for a moment. “If you  _ behave yourselves, _ I can teach you when you’re older.”

The twins both cheer, and then finally get up, letting Hamid stand up as well. He snaps, and the three of them are dry again - it doesn’t take long for him to clean the rest of the room as well. 

The lunch bell rings, right as he’s finished cleaning. “Hungry?” he asks, and Ishaq and Ismail cheer again, coming over to his side and pulling on his arms when Hamid doesn’t start walking fast enough out of the room.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Ismail begs, tugging him along. “Cel nearly always turns up to some lunch as a weird creature, we want to see what experiments they were running!” 

Hamid lets them drag him along, amused. He’s so happy to be here with his family, both the family he was born into and the family he found. He hugs the twins a little tighter, tucking his head into the space where their shoulders meet, and they pat him on the back.

Everyone he loves and cares about is safe, and Hamid is able to spend days like this, and that’s worth more than anything in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> saleh sr dni. (altho tbh if i was gonna write saleh dealing w hamid’s panic attacks it would v closely mirror the time i started having a panic attack abt being stranded in the toronto airport and missing my flight back to the states and missing work while not having cell service and my dad kept telling me to calm down bc i was acting out and embarrassing myself!! anyway it’s not bri venting hours have this nice thing)
> 
> anyway hmu on tumblr at ohallows! also!! rusty quill gaming femslash week starts MARCH 22!!! check out our blog for it @rqgfemslashweek on twitter/tumblr<3


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